Repercussions of the Devil's Lechery
by Sigma Hyperon
Summary: HG knows many demons but only one, infected devil.  It inhales subliminal messages and with time aquires enough in its system to recognize its parasite. No lemons despite the title. After blood and violence I cross the line. Please read and review.


_**Disclaim: We do not own Hunger Games (though we wish we did). We do own however the OCs and such. This is a co-written story.**_

_**Also the title many change over time. Please read and review.**_

White demons smack against his rugged Countenance. He muttered curse words and yelp in a drunken voice as a gush of freezing wind blew against his body. Shivering, he raised a finger to the gray sky.

While waving his fist to the sky, he fell onto the snow-covered sidewalk and groaned.

"Damn winter. " Puffed Haymitch , struggling to stand up properly. Once he stood up, he stared at the floor. His eyes met an unpleasantly large lump of snow.

"Damn kids making snow mans in the middle of the sidewalk". Inspecting the snow mans smashed face, Haymitch growled.

"What are you looking at?" He snarled stumbling backwards. Molested by constant hiccups, he punched the snowman's face with brute force. Behind him, he heard an innocent voice of a little boy cry out

"Wha…what happened to the sn…snowman?" the boy shook slightly. His black bangs were stuck to the side of his face. He was on the verge of sobbing.

"Your snowman was hideous so I gave it my special touch to make it better" he spat, stumbling.

"But…but-"

"Move it kid I need to go home" Haymitch interrupted, pushing the boy to the ground.

He stomped against the blizzard, occasionally stepping on the edge of the sidewalk and leaning toward the sides. However, after 20 minutes of struggle to walk straight Haymitch realized a troubling reality.

"How did my house look? Where am I headed?" He scratched his head. Intoxication had really struck a hole in his brain this time. He could not help but to feel bewildered and frustrated. His lips were chapped and oozing of red and warm liquid.

A gray figure appeared at a distance, approaching him at a fast rate. Passing seconds and Haymitch was able to make out the figure. A woman, with a Captiol hair color and a thin sweater and dark blue cotton pants hasted, toward the silent neighborhood, with a terrified expression. She held two white objects in her arms. Upon tripping, she clutched swiftly whatever was on the snowy ground and hasted forward. Her speedy revival from her fall clouded her mind , so she left a treasure behind. At a distance, Haymitch noticed a white bundle of cloth on the floor. It was the blanket the woman held in her arms, coiled around an something. The object wrapped securely by the blanket had designs of blue, green, and red little bears, giving Haymitch enough evidence that what the woman dropped was of great importance as she raced across the snow covered street. Sopping the sight of the fallen item start to wiggle and emit irritating cries, Haymitch debated his options aloud, occasionally grunting like the ogre he was.

The miniscule angel within him had arisen to the surface. His wobbling legs made way to the little figure. His hands followed, and picked up with as much tenderness as he could muster, in his arms. Here they were, a drunken man cradling a homeless baby in his arms. Very unsightly, but also very common. Babbling nonsense, he stomped toward his home. The occasional gusts of wind contributed to Haymitch's ire.

He pushed the door of the disorganized alcohol storage cave of frustrating bewilderment.

He was home.

The baby cried a river and Haymitch grunted louder than thunder. He unsteadily placed the child on his couch, got on his knees and started to plea. Haymitch was sane enough not to her the kid. but the shrill shouts and screams broke Haymitch's eardrums. He stupidly plead for the kid to shut up. He took the baby's continuous cries as a form of refusal, and uttered an animalistic growl. He grabbed the baby in his arms and popped onto the sofa. He tried to cradle the baby, to coax it to sleep, but Haymitch could no longer stand it. His conscious mind had shut down for the moment, allowing slumber to take power.

Somewhere far secured within the undergroud walls, protected by photon weapons piercing moblizing objects, The devil sat on the throne,flustered beyond the stars.

_**A Weak Start I know, but it gets better soon. I wanted to post this so bad now.**_

_**Believe me readers, you have no idea what you are in for.**_


End file.
